Coral Tide
by KitsuneMask
Summary: What if you were a beautiful, proud woman? One who left her home, and her past behind? One who served her country in a bleak, dystopian future? One who bled with honor, served with loyalty? What if the very State you served wanted to see you as less. Betrayed, left for dead, sliced in half? Would you fight back? Love again? This is the story of Cecilia Juventus.
1. One

That was the night that undoubtedly everything changed. The night where I became less than what I was.

And all of what I currently am.

I still remember it, as vividly as if only a few seconds had passed since. The cold, unfeeling steel sliding smoothly across my flesh, the instantaneous lack of pain. The sound of soft tissue and organ disassembling, the squelching whimper of blood leaving my body. The crimson trail of evidence left in the heavy snows of a frigid night.

I looked down at what was left of myself then. All I could see was a waterwall, a crimson cascade. My body weaped tears, mourned fountains, flooding the street. A lone, flickering streetlight showed my other half, sitting to the side, displaced. My whole body was warm, my head spinning. I wanted to cry, but I couldn't muster it.

I was beyond things like real, effectual tears. My lower torso did all of my crying for me. The steady loss of blood continued to offer itself out into the street, my petite rib cage painlessly sliding across the snow as I dragged myself in horror.

" _ **It's over."**_ the voice said, male, stern.

I couldn't identify him. I couldn't identify much of anything but the loss of half of my body, and the waning seconds of my life. His voice simply echoed and bounced, clearly moving off of the snow with a hollow intonation that matched the temperature and conditions. I only could hear a fleeting flutter of cloth, his blue scarf wavering in the night.

He was gone. My killer, and in a later time, my creator.

For whatever reason, I still had life in me. My weak upper body wriggled and writhed. I wondered to myself if the beautiful 'purple' in my eyes had faded, if the whites had begun to take over. If the warmth spreading throughout my upper torso was due to over take me.

I had my answer soon enough.

Without a word, I collapsed into the pool of my own blood. Vacant, purposeless. At peace.

Snow covered my fading remains dispassionately, creating an arctic mosaic of blood and organ.

How macabre.

I thought that was the end of my nightmare, but truthfully this event was the beginning of a new, and much more insufferable horror.

Beep. Beep.

I opened up my eyes. Heaven sure smelled like plastics and saline. It was expectedly white, but unexpectedly bleak. Those are the thoughts of a drowsy woman though, and upon awakening I quickly realized I'd found myself in my least favorite place. The hospital.

Ever since I was a little girl, I'd avoided the hospital with a passion. I accumulated bumps and bruises, nicks and cuts - a bit more than that when I served for the Air Corp. Every single time, from child to teen, military brat to academy graduate, my father had told me:

" _ **CC."**_ (Which is short for Cecilia by the way.) " _ **You have to take care of yourself. It's more important to detect what's wrong ahead of time. These situations build up, and you don't want to find yourself with something chronic."**_

If I hadn't been so hard headed...

If only the old man had been here now, I'd sarcastically ask him if being severed in two was the result of my karmic decision to avoid this very institution. I'd worn myself thin over the years, hardly eating, monitoring my calories and vitals. I maintained a rigorous fitness regimen, and the result was a thin, enviable frame. I was lithe, gracile, lynx-like. All the requirements of a modern military woman.

Despite my rigor, I dealt with chronic aches and pains. Popped knees, torn tendons, broken bones. All par for the course however. Or so I had told myself when I was a bit younger. Military service did that, and despite my father's soft disposition on the matter, I simply believed fighting through pain was the best way to handle myself.

I disliked admitting weakness. Which, begrudgingly, was my biggest and most obvious weakness.

What was more vulnerable than being literally half the woman I used to be? I couldn't think of a thing. That, combined with the memories of my father, brought me to tears. His tender smile, his gray, handsomely styled hair; his wistful,wise anecdotes. When I lost him, I lost more than just half of myself.

It made this separation feel as if it was nothing. My eyes welled up and a lump stuck in my throat. I shook off the tears, letting them roll down my cheeks onto the pure white linen of the hospital bed.

To my side lay a bevy of cords, wires and connectors. A massive machine with a tube pumping _something somewhere._ Another wire or two strewn across my chest, a few dug into my arms. Something akin to ventilator, though my mouth was free.

" **Cecilia Juventus."** A voice said, causing my head to turn on a dime, looking towards the front of the room.

I think part of me wanted to believe it was the ghost of my father, or some sort of comforting vision. The ghost of Christmas present, my guardian angel, a spiritual guide. My mind was no doubt overly imaginative and drug induced. The reality was, much like my surroundings, bleak.

It was simply the doctor, reading off my medical chart, with a neutral gaze. He was short, tan in color, and a bit rotund. He wore round, thin glasses, with his hair parted to the left and with seemingly just the perfect amount of gel. It seemed as if he was always a doctor, 24/7, year round. As if he'd been tasked with being on Earth to do this very thing, and his serious glance and a closet of lab coats came with the assignment.

" _ **How?"**_ I said, lacking any poise or grace. That would have to be forgiven, as perhaps that had left me when I was traumatically separated from the other half of my body.

He placed the clipboard at his side and gave me a look that essentially told me everything. I could almost guess his words. He would say something about how it was a miracle that I was alive, how the state had done everything that it could do, and warn me not to get hysterical over the results.

Except there was no hysteria left in me. I'd seen the horror with my own eyes, watching my body separate from itself. My legs squirm and writhe on the damnable snow as my upper body tried to drag itself to safety. The image of my lower half acting on its own caused me to cringe, turning away from him before he even opened his mouth.

" **You are alive due to nothing short of a small miracle."** He said, right on cue. **"Based on your service and track record to the State, you have been maintained by our best efforts."**

His voice lacked _anything._ My ears searched and pleaded for a thread of emotion, but found his tone reminiscent of an empty mall or condemned building. Threadbare. It was as sterile and cacophonous as the hospital room, as clear and acute as the intravenous device above. I rolled my eyes out of his immediate sight and let him go on.

" **I have to warn you not to get upset."**

Oh, _really?_

" **We were unable to preserve the other half of your body, as it was lost to infection. Our efforts were spent desperately trying to save what we could."**

Right. Nothing about his intonation sounded desperate, but then again, he wasn't an EMT on the scene. He didn't see it. Feel it. Know it.

He was little more than a hands-on spectator, _if_ that. Even fixing what was left of me was undoubtedly less gruesome and crude than the actual event.

" **We are looking for a suitable replacement, but whole lower bodies are difficult to find."** He paused, and I turned back to him, my eyes apparently full of disdain and hatred. His eyebrow beat a somewhat fearful twitch, but it quickly faded.

I had peace when I was dead, at the least. _Almost d_ ead. You could call it half-dead. This was the inverse.

Now I was half-alive.

Whatever it was, it was horrific already. Not only was I merely a half a woman, a torso, a drug addled semi corpse. I was now on the waiting list for a new body. Amazing.

 **"State budget can only go so far for a veteran,** _ **hm?**_ **"** I mumbled, possessing snark that moments ago I'd consider unsummonable.

He couldn't, or _didn't_ hear me, and he tapped his pen against the clipboard, choosing to speak over, through and past me. It was a stiff reminder that just because you had to tend to someone, it didn't mean you had to care.

" **A leg, perhaps. A knee, definitely. A woman's entire lower half is hard to reproduce, even with the technology we have today. You have a choice."**

Oh, do I? I didn't choose to be saved - not like this.

" **We can grow a new half organically, but that will take a few years. You will have to remain here, under constant supervision."**

Or?

" **Or…"** he looked away, and for the first time I could detect some real hesitation.

" **We could find you a replacement on the military market. As you know, the State can only find a suitable physical match, you'll be guaranteed little else. If your body accepts the surgery and corresponding symbiote…."**

A sharp inhalation of breath. Perhaps he _did_ have feelings after all.

" **Your rehab, Ms. Juventus, will be** _ **grueling**_ **at the least."**

I watched him look back at me, tapping the clipboard. If I had my choice, I'd opt to rip out this jungle of cords attached to my body and roll around to my death on the floor. What else could I possible feel?

The option of an organically grown body was a disgusting proposition - I'd be beyond 60 years of age before the half was even partially grown. The military replacement market was equally, if not more horrific. These were human parts that were in terrible condition. War throwaways. You weren't guaranteed anything, that was indeed correct.

I hated feeling as if I was being done a favor.

I sighed, deeply wounded. The machines around me disgusted and terrified me. I still feared looking beneath the blanket, it's light blue covering and thick nature giving the insinuation that i had legs.

I had to ponder if it was being done intentionally, some kind of psychological game to make me feel at ease.

The Doctor could see me staring, lost in thought, analyzing and outlining where my legs used to be.

" **Birdie."** I said, absently.

" **Excuse me, Ms. Juventus?"**

" **They used to call me Birdie. Because of how thin my legs were."**

No answer.

" **It was all muscle though, trust me."**

I laughed. Not that sort of laugh that a person gives when something is indeed funny, but that kind of laugh you give when you lose a job. Or you get evicted. Or you see a beautiful woman and summon up the courage to speak, only to realize she's taken. Or crazy. Or both.

It was a laugh of concession. Mr. Emotionless had been laughing that way his whole life. At least, most likely.

Ignoring me, once again, the short man sucked his teeth and tapped the clipboard.

 **"So which will it be, Ms. Juventus?"**

" **Market."**

My voice offered nothing. I sounded so ineffectual and nonchalant that he had to look back at me to make sure I hadn't really regressed into psychosis.

" **I said….** _ **market**_ **."**

I gritted my teeth as he wrote on his clipboard and looked me over. He gave me the look of having seen this one million times. Perhaps he would have reacted better had I gotten down on my kn-

Well, you know. Proverbially gotten down on my knees and thanked him for saving me. Both of us knew this was merely transactional. I didn't have any family, not any more, and my lack of regard for what was left of my life was quite clear.

He felt he'd be wasting his time with me, and he'd undoubtedly do his search in a sloth like fashion.

Serving the State and being in service to the State were two different things. When you served, you might as well be a God. When you were in their care, you found yourself searching for that very God you thought you were.

" **Very well then."** He said, likely thinking of the organic body I could have spent years asking for. This hospital could have hung enormous debt over me in that time. Owning me more than they already did.

I had picked the most rational option. His disappointment wasn't tough to see, buried under his glass-thin bedside manner. He probably wished I didn't know the system as well as I did. Or that my Lotazimol dosage was just a _tad_ higher.

I was fine with a throwaway body - after all, my beauty never lay in my most apparent features. Tender, fuchsia locks. Toned, fit physique.

I was told I had eyes like coral puddles. The kind that spring small forms of infinitesimal life in a low tide. The type that reflections auburn memories back into the sky, conversing with the sun. Like the mother that I never knew.

To others, they were purple.

To me, I could only see a deep, wanting blue.

It was what was in those eyes that made me a woman, broken spirit and all.

It was a grit, a determination. A fascination with being the best of that last, and the last of the best.

It was what brought me to the Air Corp six years ago.

The only thing that gave me hope was that. That invisible, indescribable part of myself that no one could take away, not even those I loved, or those I lost.

It beat on, and it is perhaps how I "sat" here today with some remaining fragment of my pride.

" **Doc-"**

He was gone.

No time table. No answer.

No compassion.

That sounded like the State.


	2. Two

An excruciating wait.

A wait made more painful and more tortuous when mixed with loneliness.

During these days I was only accompanied in my waking hours by the sobering beep of the complex ventilation device.

The ping that kept me alive, and a stark reminder that I was half of a body. Half a woman. Half alive. Wired up, laced and tied - gift wrapped by the State as I awaited my replacement.

The full cocktail of despair wasn't complete without a pinch of nostalgia. Swirled around and mixed with the loneliness, it created a blend which generated spontaneous sobs, cries and wails. Only when I closed my tear drenched eyes did I see a moment of rest. The decency of peace, the beep of the machine transferring into a hollow chirp of a seagull.

The bland white walls morphing into open space free of boundary. The constant stepping of the hospital staff washing away into a calming ebb and flow of an endless tide on a shallow shore. The bright, manufactured light of the bulb above becoming a midnight sun, replete with natural warmth, tingeing my pale face.

The faded chatters of the doctors becoming the sole voice of my father.

I could feel his hand on my shoulder, another muscular hand pointing towards the horizon.

The ocean, red, like cabernet sauvignon. It touched my toes, the gentle salts bristling against what in my dreams was pure, naive skin. Free of war, free of chaos. Free of the State.

This was a day long ago, before I saw the Corp. Before safety conquered freedom, before a Republic was simply a State.

I couldn't make out his face any more. Not after all these months. But I could hear his warm voice, his reassuring hand on my slender shoulder gently guiding me to see beyond just the reds of the tide.

" **CC. You have to remember what the best thing is to fight for."** He'd say. The exact same time, every time, wind would blow. It would kick up sands, orange mixing with a brilliant yellow. It'd blow past my eyes and cause me to wince and I'd say:

" **What's that Dad?"**

" **This."**

He'd say, knowingly, wisely. Though it was a nondescript and obtuse thing to say, it made all the sense in the world to me. He meant freedom. The momentary splendor of an unoccupied beach. The ability and means to walk where you want, when you want. To share and experience.

I remember in that moment all I wanted to do was wander. I wanted to find myself embraced by the waters, sitting in those shallow pools observing the life before me. The endlessness of time, the free air, salty and ripe with energy. My long, fuchsia hair fluttering in the enviable breeze of an infinite day.

Then, as my feet would step into the tide, the texture would always become that of blood. I'd turn back.

My father would disappear.

My legs would fade beneath me as I sunk into what was once shallow and friendly water. The sun would become unbearably hot, the sand, dark and hideous. My purple eyes would well as I sunk, I searched frantically for my father and his wisdom, but I was a lonesome woman in an ever sinking pool.

Bound fighting for a freedom in a pit of dark quicksand. I'd look down, no longer having legs. My upper torso would sink into the blood, tainting my beautiful sundress and my fuchsia hair. The unbearable heat combined to make the water more akin to lava. My arms would burn, my pale flesh rending upon itself and sinking.

Then the most horrific: my heart would float to the surface. It'd beat in front of me as I drown, looking for it, pleading, grasping, grabbing. Blood flooding my throat and suffocating me as it swallowed the remaining half of me. My breasts sinking into the bloody mixture, my lips being burned and singed by the impossibly hot water.

My purple eyes submerged. Somehow, some way, I'd palm for my heart, only to watch it be picked up by the very person in the blue scarf on that cold winter night. His blue scarf billowed in the sandy storm, his face unseen, his shape unknown.

All I could see was my heart in the palm of his hand.

Through the bloody water I could see my entire childhood fade. My innocence evacuate.

" **Noooo!"**

I'd scream, but it was futile. His grip crushed my heart. Vein, vessel. Each chamber collapsed upon itself within seconds, and I felt myself die.

Agent Dice.

 _Dice._

I flushed into the blood filled pool, my femininity washed away in a tide of hideous disgust. Dice faded, as did the once pure facade of the beach.

I'd awaken then, back in the cold, white room.

" **Ms. Juventus."**

I still had not fully awoke.

" **Ms. Juventus!"**

" _ **AH!"**_

I startled up, my head drenched in sweat. A quick glance around showed that I had ripped out several of the wires connected to me. I was covered in tears and sweat, my purple hair a frazzled mess.

Next to me a fellow soldier looked up at me with judgemental eyes. Eyes I never expected to see from a comrade, if I could call him that. He looked at me as if I could control my nightmares, as if I shouldn't invade his privacy of suffering with my own.

In this world we didn't have any rights any more, he should know. We gave them up when we decided to help build this world.

We lived in the world of blood and sinking sands. Hot suns and empty streets. Torn down playgrounds and street skirmishes. There were no pepper-haired fathers and beaches.

" **Fu...fuck…"** I said, looking up to see Esternasia, the nurse.

She had called my name, her soft and gentle fingers shaking my rigid shoulder.

" **Ester. I'm...I'm so sorry."**

I said, trying to turn on my side painfully. I wanted to curl up and hide away, as I'd had this nightmare one million times the past few weeks, and the dirty and judgemental looks from the rest of the staff and patients slowly picked away at me. I felt alone, even in the midst of the few people who should be able to relate to me the most.

" **It's fine. I've come to replenish your feeding tubes and clean you up."**

Ester was beautiful. She possessed beautiful orange hair, not unlike the horizon in my dreams. She had delicate and slight features, much like myself, but she possessed a curvaceousness and healthy composition that far surpassed my best days. She was about five years my younger (no, I won't tell you my age.), with a smile and a bedside manner that made me pity her assignment to Mr. Emotionless.

Ester was missing her eye. In lieu of it, she wore a State-issued eyepatch, marked with the abstract and bizarre logo of our ever loving rulers. It was some sort of circle pierced with three spear-like objects, representing what they said was 'Unity over Fear'. Only a girl of her quality could make such a vomit-inducing logo palatable.

Her active eye was verdant - no, nearly _coniferous_ like in its coloration and potency. Beautiful as it was, her pupil was unmistakably serpentine.

Fortunately she was naturally sweet by disposition, but one could only imagine what a steely glance from her snake-like eye would feel like. Luckily for me, it bore into my once purple glance with earnest compassion, the only real light that I had felt in this room for weeks.

As she pumped a tube into what remained of my stomach, I winced a bit. She placed a cold towel on my head and prepared to give me the news for the day. Her tongue flitted of the 's' sounds with a seductive, but genuine, grace.

" **Miss Juventus, we've finally found a replacement for you. Fresh out of the war."**

" **Ah."**

I attempted looking away, searching for the far distant window. Sadly it was blockaded by several curtains, so I simply turned back, sighing.

When I exhaled, the feeding container curdled, and I made a disgusting look at it before looking back to her.

Her orange hair bobbed in the vacant lighting of the hospital, and she continued on.

" **It isn't the greatest, but it is fully formed. The DNA and RNA profiles are nearly a match, 75%."**

She dabbed the cold rag on my head and I looked up to her singular eye with a skeptical glance.

" **75%. So they tried their** _ **best**_ **."**

She, unlike the other staff members, liked my snark. She laughed a bit, a short hiss following it up. She bore a venomous fang against her lip to stop the laugh and removed the towel, covering up the feeding tube and reaching under my blanket to politely remove it. She did this out of respect for me, as she knew the process itself was rather disgusting. She could, of course, withstand it. Military nurses were just as tough, if not tougher than Corpswomen.

" **I don't know about all** _ **that**_ **."**

She said innocently, readjusting some of my wires and crossing her legs. She moved herself swiftly, using another rag to gently wash the sweat and tears from my arms. She then dipped the rag into a small bucket and lifted my gown, lightly washing over my chest and my upper stomach, careful to avoid any stray wiring.

I winced, but the warmth of her upper hand lightly tracing me was definitely not unwelcome.

She quickly patted me with a dry towel, before setting it to the side and eyeing me for any other dirt or grime.

" **But they did try. I realize it has been about four months since you initiated a search, but this might be the best match you get for quite some time."**

She wasn't wrong. It was actually fairly miraculous that The State even could find something in four months. It made me feel as if my tenure in service to them actually meant something, but I knew that the truth was far separated from such a thought.

" **Okay, so what's the matter with it?"**

Feeling an ache in my right breast, I winced again and moved a bit, scooting myself upwards, adjusting my gown and letting my body dry.

I wanted to give the impression that I was dead serious, because as sweet as she was, this woman's job was to explicitly lie to me. Though some facet of her over the past few months had likely come to care of me, she was still a State-raised child, and she had codes and protocols to protect.

Political to the end. Perhaps.

" **Surprisingly it is in near perfect condition."** She said, darkness now coating her once maple sweet voice.

 _Near?_

My heart jumped, and my eyes peered at her. I crossed my arms and looked over my beautiful psuedo-cyclopian caretaker.

" _ **Well…."**_

She twirled at her orange locks, focusing on me intently with her lizard-like glance. The green hue of the orb locked into me and wouldn't allow for me to escape.

" **It's just been a bit patched together itself. Everything is functional after all, tendons, muscles, the works. Things have been added and taken out, the result of war."**

So, eight toes? Knee replacements? A child's hip and a mule's femur? I tried to search for any level of detail in her voice, but her hisses and slips evaded me. She wasn't going to give me the specifics.

" **You make it sound take it or leave it."**

I bit my lip, tightening my arms a bit as I did so. If I had my feet, I'd be tapping them on the edge of the hospital bed, pondering what she had said in some sort of upset half-pout. I knew what I was getting into with the military market.

It was insanely difficult to find a fully formed body - in fact, less than ten upper or lower bodies were given up on the market in a year. Upper being the most common. The stories of horror are well documented.

The soldier who underwent the grueling twenty-seven hour body reconstruction surgery, only to find this knees possessed no anterior cruciate, or medial collateral ligaments (ACL, MCL).

The young woman who had her left arm reconstructed, only to find the primate and human fingers mix and matched, her arm reformed but _deformed._ Ankles covered with bone spurs and contusions, benign tumors debilitating full recovery.

It was a risk. A risk all blamed on the soldier when the Government received a complaint. It was a essentially a open black market, one which the government used to enact fear, doubt, and horror among the population to keep us further divided. If only my youth hadn't given me the faithful illusion of immortality and a beauty.

I sighed and sunk down into the pillow as Ester flitted her tongue across her taut lips.

" **It is, Miss Juventus."**

She rubbed my stomach gently and rose up, taking the medical board in her hands and striking a feminine, serpentine pose. She rested her other arm on her thigh and smiled.

" **This is the best chance you have, and I know from seeing many cases like this. There are only finite chances for a donor, and even higher risks in symbiosis and surgery. You must take what you can get. 75%."**

I placed both my hands over my eyes as she spoke, my once finely done nails fragmented and chafed. My delicate and feminine hands worn by atrophy and stress, the bones of my fingers pressing against the remaining fat of my upper cheek.

" **Get me the file and execute the debt. I'll take it."**

Anything was better than laying in this bed, night after night, day after day, haunted by the visions of the woman I used to be. I'd do anything not to see beauty torn from my hands on countless dark nights, anything not to see Dice squeeze my heart in his hands and execute my dreams.

Anything not to hear the warm voice of my dead father.

I needed to use whatever inner strength I had left to rehabilitate myself. To use whatever legs they gave me to gain revenge, erase this flawed system, make myself whole again. Whatever hideous thing they turned me into, it couldn't change what I had become inside. I had to be strong to survive this long, to see this much, to mentally unravel yet never break.

I would fight and claw my way through this existence and out of this hospital. Out of the emotional vacation the State seemed to want to send me on.

I knew the situation was bleak when the highlight of the day was my feeding tube being emptied and cleaned by a serpentine shade raven. Even worse, she was about the only genuine person in this hospital, my only company. Serpents weren't exactly known for these qualities, which only exacerbated my desire to leave. I'd lost so much of myself, but there was still a gateway to climb out of.

Right through the damn route the government wanted me to take.

Moments passed, and she tapped the clipboard slowly.

" **As you wish!"**

She said, her enthusiasm clearing away the dark cloud of her serious statements. This nurse knew she was holding me over the barrel. The whole hospital was.

I never understood that phrase. As you wish.

No, I hadn't had anything the way I wished it for a long time.

Not since the Republic. Not since that warm auburn sunset.

Not since they were alive. And certainly not since the war.

I was volunteering by being _voluntold._

I placed my hands back down at my side, letting the shame melt off me as I watched the nurses' curvaceous figure disappear into shadow. I found myself wondering if she indeed had some sort of affection for me, the first female patient in this block in quite some time. She probably found herself disgusted at the cat calls and comments of some of the less mentally stable patients, but I wasn't sure how much of an upgrade I was.

A little sarcasm didn't seem to hurt, a bit of color didn't seem to sting. My words must have seem familiar to a venomous woman like herself. Maybe in me she saw what others had before.

Or perhaps that was just the way a Serpent works.

" **Can't** _ **wait**_ **."** I said smugly, essentially to myself. I propped myself up on the bed and looked up near the top of the ceiling, where an old propaganda poster hung for The State. A dingy fan blew the remainders of the poster around, but one could still read the words if they peered closely enough.

" _ **State. Government. Culture. Prosperity."**_

Words I had read, preached and said one thousand times. Only now did I sit back and reflect, realizing just how empty and fruitless they were. What once filled me with pride simply made me wish there was a machine to pump my memories from my skull.

Nowhere was family, friendship, loyalty or respect.

In this society, it didn't seem you needed them.


	3. Three

The worst part of surgery would be the nanobots.

These little fuckers were tasked with re-connecting tissue and nerves, moving all the way from the bottom of your body to the top. They diligently worked in places doctors could not, and the only way to properly administer them was without anesthetic. That, and massive needle with which to give them their launchpad. I'd never been a fan of bugs, and the idea of tiny spiders reconnecting my body was creepy enough as it was. But after hearing how they were inserted, the lack of anesthesia, and the things I'd witness, I could quickly feel any remaining color leave my face. Apparently they created painful air sockets and blisters as they worked, sawing, gnawing and gnashing their way through the body's inner areas, destroying to recreate. Their miniature metallic jaws worked and sawed, testing every pain receptor as they left a slovenly trail behind. Without emotion, they mercilessly would crawl, visible through thinner layers of flesh. If they malfunctioned they could easily tear a hole through a patient, begin devouring them, or cause intense paranoia or psychosis. Internal bleeding, clotting, or severe nerve damage were the other 'minor' concerns.

But when they worked, they saved lives. If they worked.

Before nanobots though, there was much preliminary work to be done. First was the debt that would be charged to my name, or rather, what remained of the Juventus name. All direct transactions between The State and a citizen or service member worked this way, and it helped them retain control over the financial situation someone was in. As a Corpswoman, I'd received much of this hospitality based on time served and battles fought, as well as mission completions and commendations. Eventually though, my merit could not stand alone. I'd have to give up something more appealing - my name. The Estate of Juventus would be charged for my entire procedure, and it would be squarely placed on my shoulders to work my way out of the massive debt should I find myself "capable".

In other words, walking.

The surgery for a lower body transplant was somewhere in the neighborhood of two million mezula. For perspective, it takes a family about _three generations_ of prosperous offspring to generate two million mezula. For a single woman it would be an impossible task, and ensure I do one of two things - work the rest of my days for becoming this way, or attempt an ill-fated rebellion on the hand that fed me.

I didn't have much leverage or room to complain. I'd already made up my mind out of those two options, but these were thoughts that I'd keep locked in my head for just a little while longer. First, I'd have to embrace the pain of the lower body transplant.

* * *

I spent the days leading up to the surgery under constant surveillance, a stark change from how promptly I'd been ignored during the past few months. The visits from Ester were more frequent, as were those of Mr. Emotionless and his team of supposed doctor-bots.

If I was a piece of trash to them before, I had become something of an experimental oddity in the current time. Operations like this were rare, and doctors salivated at the chance to embark on the harrowing procedure of building a woman or man again from the halfway point.

They bore smiles on their face these days, the robotic and vacant glances exchanged for something of an adrenaline rush. They were genuine smiles, though they were definitely _not_ for my own good.

I almost pined for loneliness as my blood and vitals were repeatedly checked and rechecked. My once tender skin pricked with thick needles and jabbed with the ends of prickly wires. Shocks traveling through the remainder of my nerves, tubes being drained and refilled, drugs flooding my system and bending my reality into a experimental downturn.

I established in my mind that these non-feeling, empty people had waited for such an opportunity to express their latent sadism, my own personal feelings notwithstanding. If my words had bounced of them before, they surely meant nothing now.

" **Just** _ **one**_ **more test for the day, Miss Juventus."** the doctor said, what I suspected to be the blackest of lies escaping his pearly white grin.

A needle entered my thin arm, guzzling a massive amount of blood into the top. I gasped, inhaling sharply. Ester held my arm down, with enough pressure to keep me from struggle, though there was a tender touch that also relaxed a portion of my panic. The blood plodded slowly to its destination, leaving me at a simultaneously belated and agile pace. If my body was it's home, the blood surely seemed to go through a struggle to leave the nest.

I exhaled, and my arm was released. The Doctor did that thing that they do in old horror movies, where he squeezed the empty syringe, unnecessarily and horrifyingly ensuring it was empty. I gritted my teeth and bore him a hateful glare, even fiercer than the ones in months previous. He, per the norm, ignored me; leaving only the serpentine stare of my nurse to look to for comfort or reassurance.

She shrugged her slender shoulders and pressured the puncture, ensuring the crimson flood didn't drop to the floor any further.

" **See, just one more test."** She hissed, far more playfully than was needed in such a grim circumstance.  
Her green eye traced my torso up and down, before raising her cheeks in a fanged smile.

" **You did great. That'll be all for now."**

Her hand released, after placing a bandage over the wound. I shifted my head and panted a few breaths. The doctors who had previously surrounded me so ardently had made their exit, while Mr. Emotionless sat near a sink, cleaning some of the equipment. Since these tests had begun, he could be caught humming, something I had previously doubted his emotional capacity for.

A snarl formed on my face as the room vacated, and I reclined in my bed once more.

" **Is it even worth it…."**

The words escaped my mouth, floating into the air. They seemed to curl around Ester as she adjusted my IV, drawing her towards me on the thin string of doubt and hesitance. She pivoted on her thick thigh and stretched upwards, looking up towards the light, before meeting my once purple gaze with her serpentine eye. The lone light in the room swung above, a singular bulb that seemed to flicker on and off at the most sporadic of times.

" **Do you really have to ask?"**

She nearly purred, sitting in a chair next to me and rolling up to the side of the bed. She rested her arms on the side of the rail and gently tip toed her fingers up my arm, invoking goosebumps.

" **You have a chance to change your life. Again. We don't get many of those. Or…."** her tongue flitted in and out, before coaxing itself around one of her sharp incisors and disappearing.

" **Any of those. We live in service, we die in service. Whether we believe or not. Life gives us a way, but it is hardly ever _the_ way. You fought their war, now you get the chance to invoke your _own_."  
**  
She took her hands off of me and began to get up, packing her nurse kit up and adjusting the light above.

I wondered briefly who's side she was on, another question that I needn't ask.

 _This girl just wanted to see the world burn._

I thought about my father again, my heart in the hand of Dice. The things I had lost, and the mental and physical anguish of this dirty, inhospitable place. The tortured cries of those who unlike me never found the possibility of escape, who never drummed up the confidence for a fight. Who ailed and relented, allowing the sweet mystery of death to take them to the great beyond.

If there was a great beyond.

My story was my own to write, it was my own to formulate, and it always had been. I always took charge and did what they said I never could, would, or should do. I exceeded all that was thought of a Corpswoman - and even through my doubts I still proved myself on the field of battle. Cut down and placed into the custody of my own Government, by my own Government, for the sake of my own Government.

I had become dangerous. I had become the woman with the glint in her eye and her name in the paper. I'd become what this society deigned you not to be.

 _Something._

I wouldn't let a circumstance like this drag me into the pit of nothing. Of eternal service, gratitude to those who would see me as less. I slid up on the bed, changing my snarl into a smile. I looked at my arms, riddled with pricks and bandages, wires and cords. My ventilator, blood supply and hydration support. I cracked my neck.

" **Heh. You've got a point. Enough has been taken from me. I need to reclaim whatever I can. However I can."**

 _They can't fuck me forever, I thought._

She hissed in the corner for a moment, eyeing me over with a glint in her eye. I always offered her entertainment, and my statement was nothing short of it. She took the tender flesh of her pinky and tweaked it on one of her fangs, something the youthful nurse often did when she was in thought.

" **So _ferocious._ That's the Cecilia from Day One."**

She nodded, tapping me on the arm before heading out the door. She didn't give me a look back, but I could tell she was amused by the sudden determination I showed. Though I silently displayed it during the tests and diagnostics, the feedings and the drainings, I was much more content to never speak on it. Putting words to my disdain and desire motivated and sparked fire in myself and to anyone who would listen.

The depressing portion was always that there was usually few who would. This hospital was hardly a place to live - it was a place for you to arrive in and die. If you didn't come here and die, you walked, hobbled, or crawled out of here with only a small remnant of your life left. Left to believe you were obsolete, less than human. A tremendous debt hung above the name of your family disgracing you from those who were perfect, more impeccable, more obedient.

They hoped I would die here, with honor. Or in a tragic surgery to attempt to regain my life.

Or on the way out of the hospital due to sepsis. It wasn't about me living, it was about the publicity of a soldier passing with honor. Attempting to get herself back to the front lines. They'd bleed whatever genetic heir they found of me dry, hanging my hospital debt on them - or perhaps, they'd hike taxes and put the debt on the public in secret.

This hospital was nothing short of a experimental morgue. I wouldn't have my fate determined like this.

Surgery be damned. **I'd survive.**

* * *

I'd been a perfectionist at combat. When I had my wits and legs about me, I could move with unprecedented speed and strength.

I felt sand under my feet as my weight came down from the sky, my blade hacking into the assault dummy with the sort of precision that cut arteries and diced veins. The straw from the mannequin fell to the wayside, the splintered remains of it's makeshift body sprinkling into the wind.

" **I missed the heart."** I said, wiping the blade off with a cloth. It shimmered in the evening sunset, the cool tides pawing at my boots.

" **Did you? I saw a clean shot all the way through."**

Mayala Ires, my subordinate and at the moment, my combat partner. Mayala was fascinated with guns, lasers and gadgets, though never being much of combatant herself. She'd been taken under my wing for several weeks to see exactly how a frontline operative moved. She was eager, intelligent, and naturally beautiful. Her hair possessed a wondrously rare gray hue, her eyes nearly white. Her skin tan, born of the Outer Islands - her short and muscular frame a testament to the work ethic of her people.

I eyed her down with my purple glance, the wind blowing my long hair across my vision for a moment. A parted it and set the blade to my side, laughing.

" **Corporal...the heart isn't located on the right side."** I used the other side of the cloth to wipe the sweat from my head, sitting next to her on the rock formation near the coast.

" **Dealing an aerial blow, you need to come straight down on the target. The fucker can't have a _moment_ to blink, a second to move. You slice straight through and impact your…" **

I grabbed her arm and pressed it down, chuckling.

" **Weight - forcefully on the blade."**

She looked at me with wonder. Wonder and innocence that had somehow been lost in how many battles I'd fought and moments I'd discarded. The near white in her eyes shimmered, those light gray irises following me like I was a Goddess incarnate in her presence. She placed her hand the top of my palm and smiled.

" ** _Gotcha._ That's beautiful advice Cap." **

I found myself wondering if she cared so much about the lesson, and more about the fact it was me giving it to her. I quickly removed her hand from mine and stood up, pointing towards another blade that was stuck in the sand only a few feet over.

" **Oh yea? Well get off your ass and show me."**

I snickered a bit and twirled the beautiful blade in my hand. These were the days I loved. The rush of combat combined with the flow of the ocean, my hair fluttering in the smooth flow of the passing winds. The ability to feel as if I was imparting something on someone. It brought upon me the feelings of wishing for another chance.

" _ **Huh!?**_ **Alright! I'll do my best!"** She cheered, hopping off the rock and rushing towards the blade. Her gray hair, cut in a sort of bob, bounced and twirled in the gusts, giving her the most innocent and tender of appearances. I sighed, discarding the cloth into the sands, briefly releasing the blade so that I could tie my hair into a tight ponytail.

She dislodged the blade from the sand and those near white eyes flickered with the intensity I'd begged to see during our previous bouts.

" **You can try."** I said smoothly, embracing the blade in my hand and moving towards her, my ferocious downswing cutting through the wind. The swiftness on my blade upon her caught her off guard, and the young Corporal rose upwards in a parry, pushing backwards, her knees buckling under her.

" **Nngh…."** she whimpered, but only for a moment. She pressed back, force channeling through her muscular legs, moving me backwards a few inches as she rained down an upwards slash upon me. A smile remained on my face as I adjusted my posture and moved my blade effortlessly to meet it. I pressed my weight against it, moving her off her feet for just a second and back again.

She responded in kind, and the match begun in earnest. Truly taking to my advice, she moved wisely - but my footwork was superior. My blade twirled with ease and skill, matching her stride for stride. The clashing of blades shone off in the setting sun, the first stars rising into the sky as the day neared its end. Steel offset steel, until I moved into the air, kicking up sand, following the wind. Surprised by my agility, her eyes widened on my descent.

Our blades met once again, but this time, my force proved too much. The downward assault cracked the steel on her blade, whiffing over her gray locks. A small bit of hair was lopped off, while the remainder of her practice sword fell to the wayside, staggering itself into the sand. Soon it was washed away into the sea of grains, sinking as the sun shone only a minor glint of light from it.

Standing nearly face to face, she below me, the girl panted. Sweat dripped her face, her near snow white glance locked with my deep purple gaze. A drop of sweat glided down my face, and our eyes continued to lock. I saw in her all the things that I had seen in myself as a young soldier.

Fear. Doubt. Uncertainty.

Acknowledgement.

She dropped her pose and stood up, and I relaxed my shoulders.

 **"You move so quick...I could never get airborne on you."** She chuckled, staring up at me with a mix of admiration and disbelief.

" **Footwork."**

I spoke calmly, brushing a stray bang from my face as I look away from her and into the sunset. The sun now sank below the ocean, its parting wave giving the sky the slightest hint of a deep red.

I began to turn back.

" **Now if you'll jus-"**

I turned to find her arms around me. Grasping me, lightly and warmly holding my waist. Her tender fingers palmed the small of my back, her gentle features nuzzled underneath my breast. The warmth of her breath, the reality of her tears, they sunk into my neoprene combat suit.

" **I can never be** _ **that**_ **strong."**

As she nuzzled into me, my eyes opened up. The sun set.

" **You…"** I mumbled, trying my hardest to remember the last time someone had looked to me for embrace, safety, or true security. I drew blank in the moment, my hand reaching around and patting her on the head. A feeling spread throughout my body, one I can only imagine that is similar to a mother embracing a child.

I lifted her disappointed head up with a singular index finger, looking at the younger woman in the eyes. Deeply.

" **You were born strong."**

She wept, retreating her head into my breast yet again.

I bore a stare out to the rising moon, and wondered if my time in the Service has began to mean something.

Corporal Mayala was dead six days later.

* * *

It looked nearly perfect. Though there were scars running up and down the legs, quite a few stitches, and a missing middle toe. It was about as near a match as I could ever ask for. The same with these preliminary reports was that they didn't show any of the functional uses of the body - muscles, nerves, more personal parts. That would be some of the gamble going into the operation.

From the exterior however, it wasn't the worst thing I'd ever seen. The person I received this donation from was a frontline Corper just like myself, and the brief bio sheet read like one. Though name and gender were not disclosed, the injury history was included.

I flipped over the sheet of paper on the clipboard and looked at some of the information.

" **Gunshot wounds, lacerations, cuts."**

I could sense eyes beating on me impatiently as I read the vague details.

My eyebrows raised as I continued on, the looming shadow of the operating surgeons hanging over me.

" **Tears, pulls and apparent strains."**

I placed the piece of paper down and looked quizzically at the surgeon.

" **I'm guessing this is a 'no' on a full report?"**

I squinted my eyes, wanting more details than the vague descriptions this two sheet bio gave me.

The surgeon, his yellow eyes filled with impatience, only stared.

 _No it is, then._

One of the surgeons removed the clipboard from my hand and sat me back, relaxing the operating table in the dingy room. I could swear I heard a rat crawling up the walls as the chair reclined into a prone position.

I found myself in the position of wondering about everything that had gotten me up to this point. I could hear the new portion of my body being wheeled in, placed on the surgeon's table as restraints were tightened on my arms.

It wasn't as if I could run off.

Again, a singular bulb was all that illuminated the dark, dank room.

If I wanted my life back, this was what I had to do.

And the first step to doing what _I wanted to do._

I could look over to my side and see Ester. In the flickering light of the bulb, her orange hair bounced vividly. It shone as she pulled it back into a hasty bun, slowly reaching down to find the syringe.

I couldn't see everything, but I could hear the skittering of the nanobots as the syringe inhaled them. Their tiny legs skittered inside of the containment, sounding frenzied and starved. The surgeons around me, four in number, mumbled lowly, ensuring all the necessary tools were in place.

Ester placed the syringe on the operating table and gently unwound the bandages that covered my lower half. I winced, breathing heavily as the air contacted my flesh, moving and weaving past cauterized skin to what remained of my living areas.

I felt the cold of the lower body touching a few of my dull nerve endings at the bottom of my torso. It was a disquieting and uncomfortable experience feeling the nearly dead body of someone else colliding with yours. I could only guess the cold, lifeless flesh that was pressed against me was my new waist.

Ester walks over to me and gently massaged my cheek, her green nails nearly digging into the soft supple flesh that my face provided.

" **Just relax, Miss Juventus."** she cooed, using the other hand to place an oxygen mask over my face, my rapid breathing being slowed by the infusion of light drugging. Her hand began to wobble and move, the flickering light hanging above becoming slower and slower.

She removed it just as I heard the words "Syringe" escape from the mouth of Mr. Emotionless, the unfortunate lead surgeon of this procedure. His hair beneath his scrub cap remained perfectly gelled, his eyes dull and hauntingly absent.

Gone was the fun of poking and prodding, experimenting and testing. Now he had to make an earnest attempt to rebuild my life, and he didn't seem to feel much of anything about it. No deviant smirk, no words of comfort.

He really did like to let Ester do all the work on the bedside manner piece, hmm?

The mask made my vision stuffy, but I realized there would be no further drugging. Mr. Emotionless held the syringe in his hand, squeezing it much like he did during earlier tests. A nanobot crept out, skittering onto the floor and away into the ratty corners of the office.

 _My God._

He neglected to make eye contact with me. He nodded to Ester, and then to the other surgeons, and before long, my restraints had been tightened. I could feel the cuffs pulling my arms towards the bare and uncomfortable table, suffocating the blood flow to my hands. The fabric was taut and sandy, causing me to wince my eyes in discomfort.

" _ **Mhmmgfffmf!"**_

The humid air from the ventilator and the light drugging made it impossible to bitch and complain.

Moments later, I felt a sharp jab into my side. A metallic rush burst through me, the feelings of thousands of small feelers running up and down my body. Something like a jaw sawed into me. I cried a muffled scream as a tear drained from my eye.

Ester petted my purple locks, her serpentine eye wavering in the drug induced haze.

" _ **Mmff.."**_

Another jab. The metallic creatures moved from the top of my shoulder and through my chest plate, supposedly connecting nerves and repairing tissues. They gnashed and sawed away, each bite feeling as if it was ripping off a piece of my insides. I could feel blood shifting and flowing, veins stopping and starting. My eyes rolled into the back of my head as the tapping and skittering of the nanobots dominated my hearing.

I tried to scream, but it proved impossible, as my tears were choking my very voice as the thing wiry bites of the bots began to weave the lower half of the body on to the torso of mine. If a bone was too long, they filed through it, grinding, sawing, cutting, sanding.

The intensity of the pain was like nothing I had ever felt before. Ester slammed my head against the pillow and dug her nails into my forehead. I snorted and panted through the machine as my blurred vision canted left and right. Two surgeons held me down as Mr. Emotionless grabbed the Stitch Machine, firing painful needles into selected and marked parts of my new lower half.

The needles jabbed the flesh, causing the other nurse assistants to run quickly for cloth, my blood pouring at regular intervals as the machine punctured and connected what would be my new body. It felt like I was being sewn together, both inside and out.

The metallic sound continued, the intense pittering and pattering of the little spiders devouring and reshaping parts of my body. Tears streamed from my eyes as I attempted pathetic whimpers and cries, the serpentine eye of Ester looking down at my face.

She leaned in close, her beautiful complexion looking nearly nightmarish in the light.

She pecked my cheek with a genuine kiss, licking up a saltine tear from my weeping eyes. I could only look at her with a pained expression as the Stitch Machine wound back, the needles slowly moving and weaving as the surgeon moved it back and forth, painfully taking blood and dead tissue with him as he did so.

After excruciating minutes, the sound of the spiders stopped.

My world warped around me, Ester's face becoming an unidentifiable blur.

Shapes and colors swirled, shifting, moving, coalescing.

" _ **She's ready. Anesthetic."**_

Only blackness.

 _Help me._


	4. Four

I awakened in a dark room. I was unsure just how long I had been out, but the nightmares of the surgery still haunted me.

My ears rang with the sounds of the nanobots skittering and biting through me, though I knew by now they had long been extracted from my body.

The pitch dark of the room didn't give me much impression that the operation had been successful.

It didn't give me much of any impression at all.

I could hear rats scurrying across the floor, the moans and groans of what I guessed was other patients, and the swinging of the light above.

The rusty fixture creaked as it moved, combining with the false sound of the nanobots to give me a pounding headache that soared to the front of my head.

 _Was I whole again?_

The restraints had been lifted from my arms, so I quickly reached underneath the blanket to see if the operation had been truly successful.

I felt bandages, layers of them.

An attempt to wiggle my new toes went awkwardly, but I felt a one of two of them move at my command.

In the dark it was senseless to get up, so I slid my hands up from my bandages and sat them at my side.

I didn't need to make my wish to be out of here as soon as possible any more apparent. I might end up getting sawed in half again if I made myself too much of a burden.

There was, without a doubt, lingering soreness throughout my entire lower body. As such, it was outstandingly difficult to recognize exact what was what. Sure, I had legs, and presumably feet and toes, but I just didn't know what kind of condition they were in.

Everything hurt.

The soreness throbbed beneath the bandages in addition to my headache.

I was still a bit drowsy from the anesthetic as well, so I allowed my head to sink into the hard, cheap pillow and attempted to rest.

I'd been through some horrible days, but this, this was something new. My entire body felt foreign, pieced together and awkward.

I'd have to wait for the lights to come back on before I could make any further analysis.

My eyes slowly closed, and I tried to drift off to sleep, putting my thoughts aside.

* * *

 _She died in mortar fire._

It seemed like so many of my friends or subordinates died in mortar fire, or survived with a gruesome injury and a horrid tale to tell.

I didn't quite understand the enemy fascination with the device, perhaps they admired their ability to devastate our front lines with it on a consistent basis.

Mayala hadn't been able to use the sword skills I taught her - she was caught in the middle of heavy fire while working on a repair for another battalions weaponry. She never got to utilize any of my advice, and more so, she never got to see her family or friends again.

She was incredibly young, and her life was swallowed up by a conflict that she had no business being in, and no clear memory of existing within.

She was drafted, stripped from her home and placed in the middle of a war. Her people were friendly, intelligent, and strong. But they were not Warmongers.

Not like the people here.

I stood over her casket, my military Dress A's tight bound around my body. For such a formal attire, it clung to me tightly, as if to display both femininity and strength simultaneously.

I didn't mind.

The short grey skirt was sewn with two black stripes along the side, signifying my rank as Captain. The single-breasted jacket, grey and black in color, was adorned with my commendations, and several battle tassels showing fights I had been in. My hair was done up in a tight bun, and my military cap sat squarely above on heavily-sprayed hair.

Over my face was the traditional State Veil, always worn by female officers during mourning.

Rain poured down from overhead, two privates holding an umbrella over me on each side.

The patter of the rain reminded me of more peaceful days, and the sharp contrast been that - and this - was stark.

I allowed myself to cry, as the rain when it met the ground would hide any tears that I could showcase.

The salinity of my tears, and the bleak grime of the rain melded as they fell to the ground, indistinguishable from each other.

" **Corporal Mayala was a brave Soldier, a loving sister, daughter and friend. She was inquisitive, helpful and selfless, a true prodigy."**

The elder priest spoke with conviction, but his platitudes were simply copied and pasted from State-approved dialogue. He wanted to be more in depth, more genuine, but it was impossible due to the rules.

" **She served The State with honor and class. A marvelous lady with a beautiful mind, great discipline, and an enlightened smile."**

" **May the State hold her forever."**

I sneered a bit at his last comment. Since the abolishing of religion, priests were used merely as pawns, placeholders, and set pieces. They did and acted according to government rules, and churches were used more as government meeting rooms than places of worship.

Whatever idols we had of any Gods before had been wiped and defaced, replaced only with the three spear and circle symbol.

He was nearly empty inside, though compassionate. His God was his life, and now he no longer had that. He could only phone in empathy through these scripted words.

I remembered the tears that dropped from her eyes that day on the beach.

This funeral, the seventeenth of the month, truly stomped over the fragments of what I once considered a heart.

This wasn't what I dreamed. It wasn't what I thought.

It wasn't even what I had nightmares about. It was so horrible that I was left numb, searching for any speck of hope or consistent feeling.

I shed tears, but it was difficult to reconcile all the reasons. I still felt the same emptiness that Priest did.

Mayala's family, large in number, weapt real tears. I turned my face over to them, and I could swear I saw sneers and dirty looks. Perhaps they blamed her commanding officer for allowing her to transfer to another battalion. Perhaps they wanted to wring my neck, asking my why I didn't do more.

I turned away after seeing her 145 year old grandmother cry. It was unlikely the worst pain she felt, but it seemed to be the deepest and carry the most impact.

The tears on my face dried up as the priest concluded, shutting his book of oaths.

The Funeral Detail gathered around me, setting up a tarp above us so that we may commence the burial properly.

" **Captain."** one of the privates intimated, grabbing my attention.

" **Right."**

 _ **"Detail, post!"**_

My voice was free of emotion, as it was required to be. At my command, the privates picked up the sides of the gray, ineffectual casket, heads faced.

" _ **Riiiight, FACE!"**_

A shift of boots in the dirt.

" _ **Fo'wardd, MARCH!"**_

" _ **Left...Left…"**_

We moved slowly, gradually, until we reached the plot, setting the casket in slowly and gently. I gave the command for the troop to head back to the tarp, face the burial ground and salute. As the overtures played, we held our salute, allowing the family the customary ability to walk towards the casket and witness the proper burial, along with the tombstone of their choosing.

They didn't get to have much say, but at least they had that.

" _ **Order, arms!"**_

We placed our hands back at our side, and with that, the ceremony was over. I dismissed my troop, grabbing my pitch black overcoat and a black umbrella, heading out into the rain and towards the SUV that was awaiting my departure.

Before I reached it, I was encountered by Agent Dice.

 _Dice._

Dice was supposedly a handsome man, but it was impossible to tell as he always wore a mask on his face.

It was white and jagged, with horns on the top of it and only thin blue slit for him to view anyone out of. He always wore a white set of battle armor, which hugged his muscular and powerful physique.

Standing about six foot six, he towered over me. He had no umbrella, allowing the rain to slowly smother his armor and tail into the muddy overgrowth of the graveyard.

" _ **Cecilia."**_

I snorted, curling up my face as if I was in grade school.

" **Agent, I told you not to call me by my first name. What can I do for you?"**

A hollow laugh from underneath the mask.

" **My apologies. You can do me a favor by destroying that retirement packet, as well as your statement on these events."**

My eyes became slits as thin as his visor.

" **I've removed enough depositions. This is one that I had to take, I told you."**

" **I'm reporting nothing but the accurate facts. Do you think every family, every citizen, every Serpent, Man, or Wearyl will simply accept the war as an accident?"**

" _ **No."**_

" **Well then you understand."** I said, pivoting my black heel into the dirt.

" **I've avoided enough depositions. I'm done. I'm retiring and submitting an accurate report. No one is going to know the better of it. The Leader will remain whole, the State succinct. I've done my duty and I'm gone. I've had enough death."**

" **Don't be so sure of that."  
**  
He moved forward and looked down. I could sense a sneer behind his mask as he breathed out heavily and stared at me.

" **You _will_ change the deposition. And you will finish your contract."**

Steam nearly exploded from my ears.

" **I don't obey the private industry. I follow my own orders in this position. Now the Leader can either trust me, or he can do his worst. But I've made my mind up, and I have more than the tenure to prove it."**

He sighed.

" **Go right ahead then. You know what will happen. We'll meet again, and the warning won't be as subtle. You are free of debt, and free of obligation in just a few more years. Do this, and you are risking injury, maybe even death."**

I snapped.

" **I fucking risk injury _every day_ I serve in this shithole! Out of my way."**

I pushed passed him, only to hear his snide laughter as I got into the SUV, rain smothering the windshield.

" _ **Motherfucker…"**_ I muttered, my face contorted in an angry expression. I tapped the front of the seat where my driver sat and signaled forward, proceeding to sit back in my seat, legs and arms crossed.

" **Everything alright Captain?"** the driver asked. If it was anyone that I would confide in, it wasn't going to be one of my own troops, especially a subordinate.

It was not professional, nor safe. I'd made that mistake one too many times already.

Like with her.

" **Everything is fine, Private. Now drive."**

 **"Yes Ma'am."**

With that, we sped off into the muddy roads.

I thought deeply about what Dice said.

But parts of me could care less.

* * *

Finally a light was on in the recovery room.

I wasn't sure how long I'd been out, but judging by the daylight scorching through the far curtains, it had been at least twelve to fourteen hours.

My headache was gone, and my mind was a bit more settled. Though I still shuddered at the thought of the nanobots.

 _Ugh..._

Some of my soreness had faded away, and I was able to move my leg around a bit. At least, what was now "my" leg.

I quickly lifted up the blanket to make good on all the wares, but everything was tightly wrapped up and covered.

I moved my body upwards to see if I wasn't going to split in two.

All in one piece. Good.

The quality of the hospital was terrible, but the medical staff seemed to know what they were doing.

I wasn't sure how much of that could be attributed to the nanobots, and how much was due to actual expertise.

All that matters was I was a whole woman again, and I could begin, at least after rehab, thinking about my revenge in earnest.

" **Miss Juventus…"**

The door swung open, and moments later, my curtain.

A bit flustered, I shook my purple locks out of my face, trying to clear room to get a better visual in the dim room.

There was no mistaking it though, the sweet, saccharine voice that permeated the hall was none other than Nurse Esternasia Nausicaa.

Her long nails moved the curtain across effortlessly, staring down at me with her singular, penetrating glance.

" **You did great. It's time to get those bandages off you know."**

She smiled, as if she had some sort of surprise for me. Always a horrific glance from your primary caretaker.

" **I'm feeling a combination of eagerness and dread."**

I said, my sense of humor still somewhat intact after the horrifying ordeal almost a day earlier.

" **Mostly dread."**

I let an uneasy laugh escape me, but taking notes from Mr. Emotionless, she simply ignored it. She sauntered her way up towards me and flitted her tongue in and out a few times, considering, thinking, plotting.

" **You don't have anything to dread. You should be right as rain after all this. It'll take you a few weeks to…"**

She placed a warm hand on my thigh, using the other to adjust a ratchet on the side of the bed, one which would make it more like a chair. My legs lowered, and she glided her hand across me to stand in front.

" **Adjust."**

She ripped off a bandage with as little care and concern as possible, invoking a wince from my face.

" **Damn! Ease up a bit!"** I shouted, my face blushing from her touch, but also sneering in utter pain.

" **Alright, don't be such a baby."** , the Serpent teased.

She carefully lifted my thighs, unfurling bandage after bandage. Soon one of my legs, feminine, shaved, and rather muscular, was revealed.

Not so bad.

She shifted her hands to my other leg, slowly working the bandages around in a circular motion to reveal another, very similar leg. This one was a bit different, as it had stitches and markings throughout. It looked as if many tissues and nerves had to be reconnected and reconfigured, and the back of the thigh seemed to be missing a slight bit of hamstring muscle.

In the place of that was a patch, likely filled with nesting nanobots to provide "faux-muscle".

Not terrible.

As she worked to my feet, I could see several more "patches" on the top of my right foot and the Achilles of my left.

The muscles and tendons either decayed or died. The grey blotches were hardly sexy, but they were a necessary evil of this whole procedure. I'd have to be a walking, breathing nanobot system until those little bastards devoured me.

" **Heh, I guess you were right about all this. This could have been a whole lot worse."** I pursed my lips into a cute expression, feeling the first genuine joy in a number of months.

Though it wasn't over.

" **Don't count the chicken before it hatches, Miss Juventus."**

She hissed, sending genuine unease throughout my entire body.

As if to save the best for last, she slowly - and I mean excruciatingly slowly, unraveled the bandages that covered my waist and my groin.

 _That's when I felt it._

She traced a hand down my groin and smiled, moving back and crossing her arms, snickering.

" **What in** _ **fucking**_ **hell is _this_!" **

I looked down, then up, then down again, my face smothered in disgust.

I pointed at her as I scowled, my eyebrow twitching in anger.

 **"Why didn't you say something? Stop them? Ask for someone with…."**

She shrugged.

" **You think they could replicate something like what you had before? I personally know all the intricacies, and I can tell you, that's not an easy thing to do."**

She shrugged again, her slender shoulders continued to accent her nonchalant attitude.

I pulled my gown down to cover the area, crossing my arms and looking away.

" **It's so** _ **embarrassing**_ **! It's...ugh! I don't even know how to…** "

She hissed a little bit, moving towards my seat and placing both arms on the railings, the heat of her body close to mine.

" **It's not** _ **so**_ **bad…"**

She ran her hand on my thigh again, and I could feel something move and change.

" _ **Stop that!"**_

I turned my head back towards her with a scowl, my entire complexion burning with a red blush.

" **Damn, I knew this was part of the deal but _shit!_ What does this make me now!? Some kind of freak? Some kind of….** _ **what**_ **?"**

She made a teasing motion with her face, using her hand, long green nails and all, to hold my cheek, massaging it gently. She dug into the blush, as if trying to knead a sore muscle.

I quickly crossed my legs and pulled the gown further over myself, shuddering.

" **You are still** _ **all**_ **woman to me, Cecilia Juventus."**

She gave my cheek a firm slap, and began walking away, quickly shuttering the curtain behind her.

I continued to scowl as I rubbed my cheek, shaking my head shamefully in the process.

" **Call me when you are ready to begin rehab…"**

Her heels clicked on the cheap tile floor as she exited, leaving only me, the odd sensation, and the other patients who had heard the awkward exchange.

 **" _Mr._ Juventus!"** One of them crowed, causing my blood to boil. I picked up a nearby drinking glass and chucked it across the curtain, smashing it into his head and causing him to howl in pain.

" **Oh just shut the hell up! It just came with the territory."**

 _Jackass._

I continued to hold my new legs together, ignoring the new problem that had sprung itse-

 _Ugh._

The new problem that had arrived in the form of personal parts.

I had to deal with this, _and_ recapturing my life?

For a minute I wondered if I should have remained a corpse.

I wanted to die now, perhaps simply out of embarrassment rather than pain.

I sunk into the depths of the hospital bed, hitting the ratchet to readjust my sore legs, keeping them crossed and throwing the blanket over myself.

My hands covered my eyes as I dragged them down my cheeks, thinking on the words of the doctor.

 _ **"You are guaranteed nothing."** _

Of course.


	5. Five

I wanted it _off._

Over the next few hours I contemplated methods of executing the gruesome feat, but at some point I was able to calm down and ease such violent solutions from my mind.

This was my fault.

I wanted my body back by any means necessary. I was the one that wanted to lift myself up from this hospital bed and reclaim the shattered fragments of my life. I was the one who signed the release waiver and allowed this to happen.

Removal of one outstanding piece wasn't going to help me - in fact, it'd only complicate my condition further. It'd give the State a reason to declare me mentally unfit, perhaps storing me away in a cellar somewhere in the hospital to rot with whatever hidden corpses they kept there.

I sighed, taking in a deep, considerate breath.

I'd just have to try to ignore it for now.

It wasn't going anywhere, but I couldn't let it dominate my thoughts.

I had so many other things to consider in the near future, the first of which was eliminating the soreness that seemed to emanate from my lower body every few moments.

The worst was my waist, which throbbed and coursed with a stinging sensation, as if someone had poured alcohol on it and allowed it to soak in for an extended period of time. I felt as if I could literally come apart at the seams at any moment, and it quickly pushed the thoughts of that _other thing_ to the side.

It'd been a few hours since Ester had been in here, and I decided that it was time to get started on rehabilitation. As the pain subsided mildly, I reached up to the left side of the hospital bed and pressed the small red button, indicating that I needed assistance.

It was late at night at this point, and though the buzzing sound of the alert echoed through the room, the other patients in the room lay silent.

Soon I could hear the clicking of her high heels down the corridor, and the rusty door swinging open. It wasn't long before her delicate fingers pressed against the curtain and tossed it to the side, revealing her lush silhouette.

In the darkness of the room, however, her glare was truly haunting.

Her serpentine eye met my uncertain glance, tracing me up and down with a smile.

" _ **You rang?"**_

I was filled with the same mixture of emotions that I was confronted with each and every time that I saw the Serpent.

Was this going to be something I enjoyed, or regretted?

* * *

" **Captain Juventus!"**

I found myself staring at the detailed wood paneling of the military tribunal, my mind replaying the violent explosion of mortar attacks that I had seen throughout my tour of duty.

" **CAPTAIN….JUVENTUS!"**

A slam on the council table shook me out of my horrifying thoughts, focusing my glance on the wrinkled and stern face of the male colonel who was in charge of this proceeding.

" **Y-Yes Sir!"**

I emerged from my daymare with what have must been a startled look, similar to a deer first sighting a speeding vehicle. Like I was staring the fate of thousands of my kind right in its eyes.

" **You said you transferred Corporal Ires to the 33rd Infantry for _what_ reason?"**

I sighed, looking away from him for a moment, before sitting up in the chair. The tribunal desk was a massive half circle, seated with each of the eight members, the highest ranking judicial officials in their divisions. They sat elevated on a perch, while the person giving the statement was in a lower, smaller area, seated in a small block near the entrance.

The room was tight and stuffy, no doubt a psychological tactic by the Service to force out the answer that they desired from whomever was seated within. They called these depositions, but they held that name in title only. These were _interrogations._

They were piercing inquiries into the reasoning by critical military events.

The tribunal gathered and ascertained information, using it to cover up, reveal, or manipulate current events for the favor of the government. If they took my statements seriously, it could pose a risk to security, or worse.

Honesty was frowned upon, but I nearly always gave my accurate statement of events. Previously, this hadn't had an effect on my promotions or my stature. In those instances though, they were statements against the enemy - my statement this time was more against our own negligence.

" **I transferred her, sir, because she no longer had a role in the 14th."**

" **Is that so?"** cawed one of the other colonels, an elderly woman. She was diminutive in size, her head nearly the only thing visible from my position.

" **Yes ma'am. She was a repair technician and was highly skilled with tech and equipment, I found her far more suitable in the 33rd. They were short on personnel."**

Silence.

" **You did, however, realize the nature of our operations there?"**

 **"Yes Ma'am. At least, at the time. I was told we were running training there."**

" **But did you recognize the** _ **true**_ **nature of the op?"**

" **No. I didn't realize at the time it was a cover for an extermination."**

The Colonel at the head of the table leaned over, baring down on me.

" **And what did you do when you found out the nature of the op?"**

" **I reported to my superior, Major Fells."**

He glowered over me, his massive body seeming to cast a dark shadow across the room.

" **And what** _ **did**_ **you report?"**

" **I reported that she should be pulled from the op, Sir, as I received incorrect and incomplete information, rendering the transfer invalid."**

" **Were you given this permission?"**

" **No Sir, I was declined by my superior. I was told that the operation was on going, and that I was told it was training for the sake of security."**

He leaned back, determined to extract whatever information he could. I felt overpowered, but I continued to push through my version of the story, not altering or wavering from what I believed was right.

I'd spoken this way about Rebels, but this was my first time outlining any incompetence in our own ops. Our division had lost forty-two soldiers in the past month alone, and Mayala was the seventeenth soldier assigned to my own battalion.

After so many deaths, it was only right to make an inquest. It was only right to ascertain our own fault in all of this, but that didn't seem to be the objective here.

" **So, if I am hearing this correctly, you are claiming officers from the 33rd were dishonest about the nature of the op, the transfer, and the welfare of the soldier?"  
**  
 **"Yes Sir."**

 **"And you are saying that subsequent transfers to the 33rd Infantry should have been invalidated, based on the violent nature of the operation?"**

" **Yes Sir."**

I cleared my throat, squirming a bit in my chair as I looked up towards the massive obsidian table. I removed a handkerchief from my military uniform and lightly dabbed my head, before placing it delicately back in the pocket of my jacket.

" **I am saying that. We cannot operate effectively as a military if we are issuing transfers that are unclear. It leads us to allocating resources to the wrong locations, it places soldiers untrained, or under-trained, for those situations vulnerable."**

One of the other colonels, a thin, pale man, leaned forward. His medals and commendations hung from his uniform, sparkling in the stiff light of the courtroom. His slight build seemed as if it would topple over from the sheer brass attached to his chest.

" **Dishonest or not, were you not the Commanding Officer for this soldier?"**

" **Yes Sir…"**

Shit. He had me.

 **"And did you engage in combat training with this soldier?"**

" **Yes."**

He leaned back and conferred silently with the others, their murmurs hovering over my head.

" **So whether she was assigned to the correct unit or not, she should have been adequately prepared for the situation at hand, training or not?"**

" **Y-Yes S-Sir but -"**

" **Captain Juventus. It is your job to ensure soldiers in your battalion are properly trained. It is not your job to ascertain the quality, or clarity of assignments. This is war. Though you are highly accomplished and skilled in combat in your own right, you are not above the Rank and File system."**

His sharp voice cut through the air, leaving little space for retaliation or retort.

" **Every incident in this war is a training exercise. Though the report from the 33rd was that it would be simply training, they could not account for the possibility of a Rebel attack. Whether you were aware of the extermination assignment or not, an atrocity happened."**

A pause.

" **You should analyze** _ **your own**_ **training methods and leadership. This Council does indeed find the officers in the 33rd negligent based on your testimony, but finds the 14th negligent as well. We simply cannot account for enemy attacks at every moment of this war. It is unpredictable and times are ever changing."**

" **We can have no weak links within The Service. We thank you for your testimony, but the State remains blameless in this affair. Consider your thoughts noted."  
**

" **But Sir!"**

The hulking Colonel at the head of the table snapped, taking over.

" _ **You are dismissed!"**_

" **S-Sir!"**

 ** _"Dismissed!"_**

He struck a gavel against the obsidian table, and for a moment I feared it would crack.

The only thing left truly shattered was my self esteem, however.

My hair fell gracelessly out from underneath my military cap, the hair-spray wearing off. As the door at the back of the room shut, I was left alone, save for the recording camera watching my every move.

I looked up at it, wondering how much of my testimony would be edited for "clarity", before grabbing my purse and strapping it around my shoulder. I rose out of my seat and sighed, feeling as if their piercing words hadn't been entirely incorrect.

It was my job to train her, and in that respect, I fell horrendously short.

It didn't matter if I'd been told by the other officers what kind of assignment it would be - she should have been better prepared.

But who is prepared for a _massacre?_

Who runs an operation and colludes it's intent from a Commanding Officer?

It was disjointed communications like this that caused me to put in my retirement packet. I only hoped that the documentation would come into effect soon - I still had another seven days to await approval or denial.

We weren't a team. The State preached unity, but this dysfunctional and secretive military was hardly that.

I'd seen enough death, and had enough broken promises. I didn't need any more.

I walked down the long hallway towards the large wooden door, my heels clicking against the floor with the sound of spacious loneliness.

My head was slightly down, the thoughts of the past hour painfully pounding at the forefront of my mind.

Life would have been easier if I said nothing, but how could I not? I had to do this - for her, for some remainder of the person I was before all this. I had to at least speak my mind.

It was naive of me to think I'd have accomplished much of anything. I had the small moral victory of saying _something_ , but that didn't seem to mean as much when it was all said and done.

They had been ready to dismiss my testimony as soon as I placed any blame.

Unless it was going to be on myself.

I placed my hands against the wooden door and slowly opened it, stepping out into the snowy streets of Excelsior City.

My sleep tonight would be restless.

I had no justice on my heart, only guilt.

* * *

" **That's right, just one more step."**

This was going to be a lot harder than I'd bargained for.

My legs seemed at the best unresponsive as I used my arms to propel crutches forward. Ester was having me walk from one end of the rehabilitation room to the other, and at each end touching a white "x" marked with chalk. Periodically I'd switch legs and make the journey again.

The distance wasn't terribly far, but crutching along was excruciating. My leg would impact the ground, causing a sharp pain to travel up to my waist. I'd stop, grit my teeth, and push on.

From her small, white chair, Ester directed me by simply waving her index finger. It was perhaps even more painful watching her sit so casually as I struggled to make even small progress towards the end of the room.

The room itself was bleak, like much of the hospital. It had some faded blue matting on the floors, plain, white walls, and a broken mirror which covered most of the left side of the room. On the opposing wall was a set of weights, medicine balls, and pads; as well as balancing beams, boxes and chairs.

It, like most of this operation, was poorly funded. Since I was the only person other than Ester utilizing the room, I could only estimate rehabilitation was a remarkable and significant rarity within the hospital.

I put my head down to breath heavily, placing the palm of my hand against the white "x" on the wall. I could seen from my reflection in the broken mirror that I was showing all the signs of exhaustion. I surely felt it.

" **Good work…"** she crowed, making her way over to me with a small clap of her hands.

" **Now let's guide you back."**

She wrapped her arms around my waist delicately, causing me to wince and sneer. She had a way of seeming gentle, but her touch was far from deft. Still, as the pain subsided a bit, there was a small amount of joy as her warm hands touched my bare flesh, gently moving me towards one of the mats.

She took the crutches out of my hand and laid me down with a tenderness previously absent, placing me on my back and letting to the softness of the mat ease me onto the floor. I exhaled deeply, closing my eyes and trying to catch my breath from what had been only a short exercise.

" **Tha-that…"** I wheezed, trying to pace my words.

" **That seemed easier on its face, than actually doing it."**

Her serpentine eye followed me, her tongue gently flitting in and out of her pert lips.

" **Even with the nanobots working for you, it isn't an easy recovery. You were strong to survive it, and even stronger to begin your rehabilitation just a few days after."**

She sat the crutches to the side and gently picked up a bottle from a nurse's bag she had placed to the side of my mat.

" **You did great though. Now just relax and allow me to apply a bit of anesthetic and relaxant to stretch you out."**

" **Alright."**

She quickly worked the mixture into her hands, and I could feel her gently kneading my up my calves and thighs, her soft hands digging into the muscle. The first touch felt like extreme pain, akin to a stab directly into my brand new nerves. In the subsequent moments, however, all of the sensation was worn away.

Her hands seemed to merge with my new flesh, the soft skin of her palms working and palming the supple surface, fading any pain into the far backdrops of my mind. Her knead changed into more of a rub as she moved up and down each leg, moving from the top of my thigh all the way down to my brand new toes.

I would have said my legs felt amazing, but they were numb. All I could feel was a warm, pulsating throb, the muscles in my thighs responding emphatically to the expert practice of my serpentine nurse.

My breathing became eased as soft, and I reached my hand up to undo my hair from its hastily tied ponytail. My purple locks flooded down my back as I allowed the numbed, warm sensation of my legs to pulsate and the muscles to loosen up.

" **This is...definitely something else."** I said, easiness filling my voice. **"It made me forget about just about everything for a moment. It made all the work wor-"**

There was one thing I _could_ feel, and all of my ease and relaxation began to transfer into anxiety as a problem began to emerge.

This was a similar sensation to earlier. I didn't have any knowledge about this kind of thing, after all, my previous experiences had been far, _far_ different.

" _ **Worth it?"**_ she snickered, wiping her hands off with a sanitary wipe and scooting closer to me, her eye following from my waist upwards to the blush on my face.

She placed a pillow near the small of my back, guiding me upwards so that I could attain a seated position, snickering the whole time.

" **It isn't professional to get carried away like that with your caretaker."** She teased, now so close that her sweet and warmth breath could be felt tickling the edge of my face.

I covered face with my hands, my eyes filled with a malevolent glare as I looked at her, emotions flooding through me as my blood and my heart raced.

" _ **Shutup!"**_ I said through my hands, shaking my head in pure embarrassment. **"I don't know** _ **why**_ **it's doing that! Alright! It must just be a side effect of the relaxant."**

It was quite similar to how I felt before. Before all this. When I was with another woman who stimulated me physically, mentally, or emotionally, it seemed that all the nerves in my body converged on that one spot and urged me on.

It was all encompassing then. It would make my thighs tighten, my heart race, my head swim. I felt only the desire of wanting them. It was like my instincts to be a fighter, but more honed. More precise. I felt like an equal then, with a desire to merge, to share and indulge into a mutual sensation.

This wasn't as all encompassing. It didn't pull and tug at my emotions and my mind - it wasn't as focused or central. It was sheer carnality. A desire to dominate. It wasn't mental at all - but it was intense and powerful.

" _ **Oh?"**_

I couldn't believe this was happening. Her warmly washed hand lightly reached under my gown and began to move, the pressure on the tender flesh causing me to gasp, my hands still raised to my face as I shook my head frantically from side to side.  
 **  
"Ester,** _ **don't!**_ **That's...that's…"**

She leaned in closely and kissed my face, her wet lips touching near the exterior of my hands. The sensation moved like a waterfall down my body, streaming into that one area, the feeling tightening in her grasp. My hands fell down to my side, the muscles in my arms going limp as she adjust her lips to kiss mine.

Her serpentine tongue flitted in the back of my throat as her hand continued to move up and down, applying pressure and gently making the flesh swim between her fingers. She moved and changed her grip, her face leaving mine. She gently rested her head on my shoulders, as I moved my hands to cover my face again, partially in pleasure, partially in embarrassment.

My mind went blank as she continued, squeezing, pulling, moving. My hands seemed to melt into the cushion of the pads as the motion moved so fluidly.

I could hear her seductively hiss into ear, the warm air of her breath driving my mind wild.

" **We have to see if everything is in** _ **working order**_ **…** " her voice moved softly, flowing into one ear and gently out the other.

 **"S-stop...S...stop…"**

I wasn't putting up too much of a fight. I panted out desperately, my self-respect pathetically falling to the wayside as the relaxant continued to work its way through me. I laid back into the pillow, fully relaxing, relenting.

Her hand gently pulled and stroked, seeming to match the pace of my feminine, delicate pants.

Suddenly, I could sense something tense up inside of me, a feeling that rushed through me. It felt like pure pleasure, but also uncertainty, vulnerability, and danger.

 _ **"Go on.."** _ she led, slowing the movement of her hand, instead focusing on pressure.

" **I don't know what...what is….wha…"**

I covered my mouth with my hands as the feeling surged forward, her hand releasing as I felt the feeling exit me, my entire upper body coursing with wave after wave of unrelenting euphoria. It wasn't as complete as my previous body but it's sheer force was joy in itself. I leaned forward, girlish gasps escaping my mouth.

My purple hair thrust forward, covering my eyes as I could feel sweat dripping down my face.

" **What..** _ **.that**_ **…"**

I could feel the sensation of the sanitary wipe beneath my gown, delicately cleaning me as my body fell backwards, pants still escaping my mouth. I could hear the sound of the bag closing, my eyes blocked by the lengths of my long purple hair.

" **Making** _ **progress**_ **, I'd say."**

She leaned in and gently kissed my cheek, giving me a moment to lay down before clearing my hair out of the way.

At a loss for words, I continued to let pants escape my mouth. I felt so sullen, so dirty, but a part of me felt complete in the most primal way possible.

" _ **I'd say."**_

That's all I _could_ say..

 **"We'll do some more serious work tomorrow."** she said, looking around for my crutches.

" **Take a moment to rest, then I'll help you back to your room. Get you cleaned up.**

 **The relaxant should be wearing away by now."**

Though my thighs still were a bit numb, some soreness did return.

I wasn't sure how much I could attribute that to her 'other' work.

I still wasn't sure what had happened, but I reached over and grabbed her hand, the other palming for my crutch.

As I found the cold metal of the device, I could feel her serpentine eye trace me as I held my delicate hand in hers.

" **It'll be a shame when you go, you know.** " She chuckled, giving me a boost upwards and assisting me on to the other crutch.

" **Such a shame."**

My head still swam with the thoughts of the past moments. My body still pulsated with the remainders of the medical relaxant.

But I could honestly say that I felt the best I had in weeks.

" **Right…."**

I crutched my way, still lost in a bit of confusion, towards the exit of the rehabilitation room.

* * *

The deposition was longer than I'd thought it would be, for by the time I had begun the trek back towards my apartment, the sun had already receded into the horizon.

Excelsior City was massive, the architecture creeping into the sky and blotting out any sense of natural growth. The snow was the only thing that gave the metallic behemoths any sense of organic essence, it's heavy fall seeming like nature's intent to cover the city.

In these frigid conditions the roads were empty. Cars were buried in the storm, their locations frozen in place, jam packed together by the squabble for prime positioning.

I clutched my black military jacket close to me, huddling my body inside the warm fabrics. There weren't too many things The Service did well, but designing gear happened to be one. My warm black gloves insulated my hands, while the jacket did it's best to prevent my body from exposure.

The frigid winter wind did it's worst - trying to infiltrate and perforate my jacket, searching for any crevice or crease to cause me suffering. I writhed and moved, clutching my purse tightly, fully intending on protecting my body from any further suffering on this blistering night. My only regret was the utter impracticality of being forced to wear heels to the hearing.

Chilly air wrapped my feet and legs, but I managed to high step into shallower areas. On a scale of one to ten, I'd succeeded in managing a strong six at warmth, my feet notwithstanding.

It seemed every building I passed was a skyscraper. In a city of uniformity and sameness, this kind of blending was just par for the course. If it wasn't a massive skyscraper or location of industry, it was a by-the-numbers military encampment. Or a laboratory. Or a hospital.

I found myself wondering where all the life had been sapped to. I faintly remembered days where things didn't look this way, but I found myself questioning whether I was simply forcing nostalgia on myself.

It seemed one day the city, much like the people, relented.

The cold whispers of the night seemed to breeze past me as I walked underneath dim streetlights towards the alleyway that crossed over towards my apartment building.

After years of work, I had been able to elevate myself to a decent living situation a few blocks outside of the city core. It wasn't much, but it was home, and after a long day of hearings and meetings, I was ready to just relax.

I needed some movies, some wine, and perhaps even a bit of dessert so I could reset for the next day.

Clutching my purse tightly, I waded through the snowy depths of the alleyway, the singular streetlight giving me a sense of security. After trudging for a bit, I stopped to catch my breath, my building just a few feet in front of me.

The light from the street flickered a bit, and a shadow seemed to catch my eye. I shrunk my arms in closer, my body's natural reaction towards what it perceived as a threat. After all the trauma, I considered the alternative I could have simply been seei ng things.

I turned away, only for an especially rough breeze to blow past, as if preventing me from taking another step forward.

A blue shimmer fluttered across my sight, causing me to turn back again, the light in the alleyway flickering dim.

" _ **Cecilia."**_

Hollow. Vacant. Masked.

 _He wasn't kidding._


	6. Six

" _ **So you did it anyways."**_

His shallow voice descended the mask, seeming to fill the snow covered streets with an invisible blackness.

His blue scarf billowed in the frigid wind. The expressionless visage peering down at me, indicating only resentment and disappointment. He was angry at me for something that wasn't particularly any fault of my own.

Dice was upset at me because there was no place in this world for humanity anymore. The State had given it up, The War had taken it, the People had lost it. He himself had exchanged flesh and bone for metal and prosthetic.

Who was I, a small woman from an even smaller place?

Who was I to go against a time honored system, one which brought this world safety, unity, and a modicum of peace?

To be transparent in a world that existed in the vague unknowing umbrella of vacuous promises and political agendas?

To have a normal human reaction, to maintain a infinitesimal measure of respect? To honor the death in actuality and not ceremony?

I was an aberration. I'd lost most of who I was long ago, but that measure that I held onto was simply too much for any of them to bear. I had remembered the days with my dad on the swing, the bright horizons orange glow touching my face as I elevated in the air.

I'd recalled those tidal pools that functioned as closed but effective ecosystems. The way the water rippled and coalesced in one area, telling stories of thousands of years in passing moments.

I'd seen the glint of instinct and the natural chaos of a world without the bleak emptiness that I'd soon pave. I'd recalled it. Washed in it. Bathed in it. Had a moment of clarity and confidence as opposed to robotic reaction.

I'd finally gone too far.

My talents as a killer and solider were useful. My creative mind and illustrated ideas, my dedication to my craft and my discipline were once valued. But a fully human soldier was no longer fashionable.

The Service had always been black and white. Yes and no. Give and have taken. Show up and work late. But now, things were changing. It wasn't left to your independent judgement to follow the rules. You would, you should, and you'd be intimidated into doing so. I didn't.

I wouldn't.

Moreso, I simply couldn't. That fabric that was sewn into me on those swingsets in the republic countryside was genetic. Inherent. Nascent. Natal, and perhaps over these years, merely laying dormant.

I was a Juventus. Not merely a Captain, a soldier, or a woman. The death and the bodies had mounted up, the blood had poured on my hands. I waded each waking day in a fountain of blood and tears, my coral tide now filled with only the rising of a corpse.

They were all on my hands, I couldn't merely comply with Dice.

I was still human.

" **That I did."**

I clutched my black jacket, the collar covering my mouth. The black material followed the bitter winds, and the snow picked up. I should have known he'd be here.

I wasn't equipped to fight, and I knew it. Perhaps I had a wish for death. Or, maybe I just didn't believe or fear my Leader appropriately. Maybe I figured that my actions would make some broad statement.

I'd be somebody again.

Silly emotion and thought really.

" **I think we both know what happens now."**

His voice offered nothing. He had emotions, but none of them resembled anything positive. He either went neutral and robotic, or dark, brooding and negative. I never wondered who Dice was before all this, but for a moment I did.

He drew his Katana out from the blackened sheath on his side. Both suns in the sky had long set, but the glint of our large, red moon was enough to cast an ominous glint on his sword.

The masterful steel instantly melted snow that impacted it. His pose turned that of aggression, emerging from behind the light post to show his full frame. The pure white body armor belied the man, or creature beneath.

He was darkness incarnate.

I didn't say another word, only nodding. He made his first step, accelerating through the snow, his movement's giving no hint of underestimation.

I was in _heels_ , for god sake.

I stepped back and reached into my purse, drawing the hilt of my sword. The blade would ascend as soon as I flicked it forward, and with a flawless motion I removed it and dropped the purse.

I spread my legs in the accumulating snow, realizing instantly just how bad a decision it was to dress formally. I kicked off my heels to allow the freezing white precipitation to creep up my body.

 _Freezing._

Dice was upon me in seconds. I flicked the blade out just in time to meet the steel of his, and he pushed me backwards into the deep tundra with little effort. I was a highly experienced fighter, but the outline of his body indicated he was muscle upon muscle.

I was no slouch. I pressed back, able to gain a small bit of ground and force myself out of the parry, backing up significantly without slipping.

" **You can't escape. Even if by some measure you kill me, Cecilia. Even if by some measure you live, Cecilia."**

" **We'll see."**

Truthfully, the words didn't come out confidently. My chances were low, and even though our actual skill might be equal, he possessed several upper hands. I knew that even if I won, he was correct.

I'd have killed an agent of the State. My life would only get worse.

But what other choice did I have?

I rushed forward with steel drawn, cutting through the flurry with a forward slice. He held his stance and met me in the middle, and the clashing of steel in the empty streets rang out. No one responded, and if there was another person there, they didn't bat an eye.

Something like this was common. No one was out this late at night unless they wanted this sort of problem.

It had me thinking back to the courthouse, if maybe I'd only been able to get out before the suns went to sleep.

 _If only I'd worn flats instead of fucking heels!_

Dice matched me blow for blow. Every overhead swipe I laid was only met with a skilled deflection. Our bodies arched and twisted, and each time our blades met I was only able to escape by a few seconds.

He was playing a game of attrition with me. He knew I couldn't last - not like this, not armored like he was. But a tenacious desire flooded through me, and shedding the obsidian colored jacket that coated me, as well as the dress coat beneath, I was left with only my black tie and light grey dress shirt.

In a moment of separation my tie and his scarf fluttered on the exact same wavelength. I wondered if we were in fact so different. If he had simply taken another path - was he found, and I lost?

He had to view it that way.

He seemed to ponder for a moment as well - though he didn't breathe nearly as hard when doing so. He wasn't human anymore.

And I wasn't sure if he was human ever.

I stepped forward with another slash, a primal yell escaping my mouth as I accelerated forward, intent on taking his life.

With a swift parry, our blades met, then deflected, and I lunged again, my quickness causing a cut deep into the hardened fabric of his mask.

A chunk fell into the tundra, the white covering sinking into the deep snow.

I breathed out hard, lowering my blade, begging for breath. I was sweating, freezing - my lungs felt like they were on fire. Movement restricted by my skirt and bare feet, freezing air stifling my insides.

Hypothermia was beginning without a doubt. My purple hair frizzed and flung over my face, my bun turning into a messy disaster. My hat had long been lost to the waves of snow, my shirt now tattered and peppered with mild cuts. Blood descended into the storm.

I looked up to see a face.

Or half of one. Beneath portion of the mask I cut, all that was there was fur. A yellow, feline eye. A docked ear.

" **You're -"**

Dice lowered his sword and stared at me.

" **Wearyl."**

Here I had thought that the city never held a Wearyl. These people had been lost, long ago, in the war. They never wished to serve the State, instead making their home in the Outlands, a place full of rabid and deformed beasts.

They'd long left the City. They were once an honorable people who served the Republic, but as things escalated, their honor was taken from them. Those who served what used to be a Republic were killed - and only the dark, carnal and feral remained.

They were a dishonored people now - one who bathed in the blood of demons. Their home in the outland was made of bone and sinew - marrow and dust. Even the Leader feared them.

And here one stood, his black fur and yellow eye staring into my fuchsia gaze.

How could the State ever convince one to serve them? I didn't ask.

The snow fell between us in the moment of clarity. Now was my chance to relent. To turn myself in. To drop my sword.

But to drop my sword was to become what he was already.

Dishonored.

" **So you are."**

My voice was now filled with a shallow, hoarse tone. Sweat froze on my body. Blood dried and patched.

He stepped forward, his feet rapidly moving through the snow. I stepped forward, my one agile gait now lumbering and wounded. Blood poured from where I'd cut his mask, a jagged scar forming on his blackened fur. He snarled, lunging towards me, striking high.

I struck high as well, but when our blades met, he pushed me off with a reserve of strength. I stumbled back and lost my footing on the ice, and his blade quickly lowered, the freezing steel knifing into my tender flesh.

Blood bubbled in my body and left my mouth. My blade dropped as his went clean through me. There was nothing chaotic about it - his sword moved with order and precision. Without conscience, like a machine.

The blade separated my body with such momentum that I could watch my legs get further and further away as I fell to a piece of barren asphalt, a half frozen puddle near my head.

A fountain of blood poured from my body as I gasped and heaved, feeling a numb, warm feeling circulate through my body. Blood pulsed out my mouth as I looked up to Dice, but his face was gone. Only the end of the other mask remained. Only the sound of a precise sword sheathin in the wind.

The streetlight flickered.

 **"It's over."** he said calmly, his blue scarf disappearing into the night.

I could hear the crunch of his white boots over the snow, and fading words echoing back to me as my killer vanished into the empty, snowy streets.

" **There could be no other end."**


	7. Seven

That was just another nightmare to wake up from. It was unclear how one was able to supersede and conquer the thought of being sliced in half. The constant waking realization that one's body was a mishmash of parts. That the very people funding your recovery and rehabilitation could have you killed at any moment.

 ** _What did they want from me? What did I even want from myself?_**

A simpler thought was to be free of this dingy hospital and back on my legs.

Fighting, swinging.

Moving. Running.

That's what I wanted, to run. I didn't want to run away from my problems, I wanted to face them in a head on, perhaps suicidal, confrontation. I wanted my blade to dance through Dice, the judicial committee, the praetorian guard - to elegantly solve my past with several swipes and pools of blood.

In the subsequent weeks, I'd gotten much, much closer to making that fantasy a full fledged reality. The legs that were attached to my body had gotten stronger, my balance evening out. The drug dosages lowering, the organs cooperating and bonding. This powerful body was mine, even though the pieces were not.

For all her flair, Esternascia was able to thoroughly and (somewhat) professionally guide me through rehabilitation. Though sultry and coy, she was highly skilled and knowledgeable - advising me on the quickest ways to nurture the technology inside me to get into proper shape.

Of course, she expected _something_ for all of this assistance.

* * *

Eventually I was moved into my own private room - and with my ability to walk restored, I spent much of my time contemplating the best moment to make my exit.

I'd traded a medical gown for a white shirt and old military academy sweatpants, a messy frizz of a hairdo for a long ponytail. The very tips of my purple hair had become platinum due to the nanobots grey genetics circulating my body.

The rotation of the two suns in the sky drew my eyes to the window, my pale nails scratching against the cheap glass. I reflected heavily on the pain of the past few months, the long walks across the rehabilitation hall, the nuances of my new body - and all the problems that it had caused me.

Somewhere I had buried feelings of shame and hate, much liked I'd buried the deaths of those important to me. Much like I'd buried the death of the Republic. The only thing that kept me standing, walking, perhaps even breathing was the fervent darkness of revenge. Hatred for what I'd become, even before this transformation.

" **It's almost time…"** my voice was hoarse and tired. It didn't matter how many nutrients I pumped myself with. Or companionship. Or regaining my legs.

I had _been_ tired.

I'd been tired since I left my hometown. Since my father left. Since I shed the dreams of a Republic for something greater. Life was so limited in its chances to make decisions, and the ones I'd made always seemed as if they'd benefit me. They'd benefit those around me - but they didn't.

They hurt people. Tore them apart. They soaked my hands in an intolerable crimson that reflected the shades of our nightly moon.

I was dark, no matter how much I wished to redeem myself as a heroine. I was a killer, and the only thing that had changed was my targets.

I slammed my hand against the window, but it was quickly grabbed by a smooth, feminine touch.

Ester.

" **I didn't hear you come in."**

" **I move quietly…"** she cooed, her tongue flitting on my ear.

This is what I'd become. Ester was now my exact match - she was devious, dark, and wounded. She was a broken person, pieced together differently than myself, but still pieced together. She was sinister woman from a sinister people. Her compassion existed, but was masked in lust.

She didn't work here to save lives, she just loved putting broken things back together. And I was the most broken of all - yet the fire in me sought more.

" **How _is_ my beautiful soldier doing today? Did you take your medicine?"**

" **I don't know if I could live without it, to be honest."** I laughed a bit, turning to lean against the window as she stood in front of me. Her green eye traced me, her orange hair tied in a tight and professional bun. She placed her hand on my chest, before tracing it up my shirt before massaging my neck.

" **Mmm..Perhaps..."**

We both paused, in the moment, something like a dark affection laid between us. Warm, brooding, primordial.

" **You are going to leave me aren't you."**

" **We always knew that. You know I have to gain something of myself back…"**

" **Oh, but I mean permanently."** She squeezed my neck tightly, her one eye peering deep into my purple gaze. Was she actually feeling something? Or was this simply the loss of her favorite possession?

" **You'll** _ **die.**_ **You'll fade and burn out my dear..."** She massaged again, before letting go and leaning against me, her breasts pushing firmly into mine.

I wasn't sure whether to feel threatened or to blush, but this was the sort of confusion Ester was known to inflict. I crossed my legs, trying to lean back into the conversation as if I was unmoved.

" **I don't care about dying. I just want the chance to reclaim what I had before. To make a statement...to let them know I didn't fucking go out quietly. Not with a whimper, with an…**."

" **Explosion?"** her peer widened and she leaned back, cradling her arms around me.

" **Exactly. You know very well I can't linger in this place I can't - "**

" **Fully embrace being deformed? Forgotten? A project?"**

" **Well, no it's not that…"  
**  
 **"It _is_ that Cecilia. You want to be a full woman. You want to die a full woman. And I don't mean just physically. You want to die remembered as you were."**

She was right. I thought that by shedding more blood I could cover my past. I could blanket one ocean of blood in another. Somehow this would make me good. It would redeem me - make me some sort of feminist force.

Maybe it wouldn't. Maybe it was less than that - and I just wanted to feel better. I just wanted to feel like this wasn't all for nothing - like not dying there on that cold snowy ground outside my apartment _meant_ something.

That I meant something. That life meant something.

It was more than a dark bleak betrayal of our childhoods. More than a series of hard choices and fucked up realities. More than rusty lights and rat infested hospitals - more than impartial juries and unreliable dictators.

 _More than…_

She leaned in and kissed me. I felt her soft, lush lips impact mine, her sharpened teeth nibbling delicately on my tongue. She moved her's flexibly and with ease, swimming inside my mouth and causing me to lean into her. Her nails dug into my back desperately, with all the lonely darkness that we shared between us.

I separated, moving back and leaning against the window, my heart racing. Without a thought, my legs uncrossed and I allowed her between them, pinning me to the window.

" **I do want to be remembered. Part of me wants the swelling darkness, this mourning, this sense of emptiness - it wants it to stay with you. Even if I leave, I'm fucking annihilated - I want you to hold this lust and anger between us."**

She licked my neck and reached down to scratch the top of my muscular thigh, her hand easily moving my sweatpants to a more malleable position.

" _ **My little broken thing…"**_ she cooed, looking into my eye and pressing her warm hand against my cheek.

" **You are the darkest woman I've met. The only person to come back from half a body - misshapen, broken. Malfunctioning - only fueled by your desire for more blood."**

She hissed slowly, pinning her leg against the wall, pressing me in. Her sharpened teeth shone in the dim hospital light as she looked me over.

" **I knew the minute I read your record and looked at you. You were just like us. Maybe not fully human after all, Juventus…"**

She traced my neck downwards, while her other hand successfully made its way south. She gripped that part with a firm and loving hold, lightly moving her hand warmly across it as she opened her uniform to reveal plump, supple breasts.

" **I don't think I've been human for a long fucking time. And in moments like this, I want to throw it away and just embrace all my sins. I don't want to keep fighting...** _ **I'm so damn tired!"  
**_

I took my shirt off and flung it on the floor, allowing my colder flesh to touch the warm sensation her body. I worked my way out of my sweatpants and panties and kicked them to the side, aiding her hand in stroking the soft skin of the member.

" _ **Embrace it…"**_

She whispered, leaving me to pleasure myself as she moved her leg down for only a moment, sliding out of her panties and kicking them aside. She quickly kicked her leg back up, forcing my hand off myself and plunging the full breadth of the flesh into herself.

I gasped, the most girlish moan leaving my mouth as I gently suckled on her right breast, teasing my tongue on it as she slammed her hips into me, her tight and inviting warmth swirling me into a vortex of darkness and lust. My hands moved up to hold and control her hips, their desperate grasp guiding her forceful essence into me, the wet embrace tightening and contracting from my touch.

She used her right hand to grab my ponytail and jerk my head back off her breasts, leaning into me as she moved, our lips colliding as she kissed me. Warmth spread from both the top and the bottom of my body, the vicious and forceful rock of her wetness colliding with hardened desire of my most shameful part.

Her thick lower body drove me into the wall, her wanton force and wild desire slamming us against the cheap wooden infrastructure, causing a shelf of supplies to topple over and fall to our feet, ignored.

We separated from our kiss and I leaned over her shoulder, picking up her other leg with aggression and allowing her to fully mount me, plunging deep inside of her as I picked her up. I panted relentlessly, her moans driving me to thrust deeper and harder as her neat and organized bun fell into a frizzy mess, her auburn locks tumbling to the small of her back.

The flesh of her backside rippled and waved, the impact of the tight, wet and constricted insides dripping down onto my thighs and trickling onto the floor.

Ester moaned and hissed wildly, placing her hands around my back, synchronizing our hips and I leaned forward. Our bodies landed nearly perfectly on my hospital bed, and for a moment, I was able to draw outside of her, my purple ponytail tumbling down to almost tickle her nose.

We panted and breathed and I looked deep into the serpentine glance of the sinister nurse.

" **I'll remember."** She said, with a softness and gentleness that hadn't been in her voice since the first day I'd seen her. Perhaps this was that fragment of humanity she had left.

" _ **Try."**_ I said, and with that I leaned into to kiss her, fully penetrating her quivering, shivering core. I traced her warm insides, feeling them desperately grip, tighten and hold against me. Our flesh merged, and I could feel the pressure mounting as the tender skin on my thick member tingled with a powerful sensation.

I drew out and in, in and out, and her thighs locked my back, pressing me ever deeper inside. The damp ecstasy of her body tugged and pulled, hugged and squeezed.

I didn't even attempt to leave. I let my tongue swim inside her mouth, licking the tops of her sharpened teeth. I let our lips match and flow, our breasts touch and rub. I broke the kiss and moved upwards, pumping into her with full force and effort, letting every bit of her tightened insides stroke me.

I felt the pressure flood from the top of my body to the bottom, pushing out through the my throbbing, desperate exit. At the same time her legs clenched and quivered, shaking uncontrollably as I moved deeper.

We both released, and the cum flowed and descended, every bit of my warmth merging and flushing with hers.

This was different from all the other times.

Drenched with sweat, I panted, each feminine gasp escaping my mouth and contradicting my aggressive actions.

I felt a mix of shame and relief - after all, I never wanted to admit I enjoyed this. But it didn't matter what I was now, the feelings I felt now were distinctly female. I felt wanted, needed, desired.

I felt beautiful for a moment.

I moved myself off of her, watching her twitch and quiver a familiar type of orgasm moving through her. She placed a hand in her hair, before sitting up on the table, grabbing a towel from the edge of the bed.

" **My fucking** _ **project.**_ **"** She said with a sarcastic twist of her mouth, looking me over as I grabbed another towel from the fallen shelf.

" **Who's to say you aren't mine?"** I laughed, wiping my body with the towel and preparing for the inevitable shower.

" _ **Me."**_ she teased, cleaning off the bed and gliding towards me.

I just wanted to feel something similar. Our darkness, as different as it may be, is what made this sexual relationship relevant. When the only person who had cared for you was this wounded and damaged woman - you began to see your own reflection in her face.

She was beautifully deformed just like me.

" **Come now, time for clean up."**

Nothing could wash off this darkness.

But everyone needed it. At least, so I believed.

I wouldn't forget her.

* * *

That was the next to the last time I saw Ester. The final moment was her placing a basic security sword in my hands - likely from one of the guards - and her tightening the button on the top of my black coat.

A kiss on the cheek.

" **Off you go to recover something."**

I tucked the sword delicately in the sash of my coat, smiling a bit and pecking her on the cheek in return.

" **I recovered enough here. Now I'm going to try and salvage just a fragment."**

She had already released me, turning back to walk into the hospital, her green eye piercing me with a final gaze.

" **When you kill them, I want to hear the screams from** _ **here**_ **."**

She smiled and walked inside, and perhaps part of me would have died there. But the very essence of our relationship was based in death and decay. I didn't lose anything - I simply gained the faith that someone gave more than a modicum of a shit.

Now I was off to find Dice - that, and my way into the heart of our Capital. Still, they'd likely find me first, a possibility I was absolutely prepared and delighted for.

The hospital was a short way from the subway, and that was the first place that I'd take myself. It connected directly with the core of the city, and after a few security checkpoints, the Capital. My chances of making it there undetected and without combat were slim, but it was only six in the morning, and I figured my encounters would be just as scarce.

I was on borrowed time, and I'd kill every single person who cost me a second.


End file.
